The dream, being a dream, unfolded,
leaving a twisted detritus
of disconnected visions
across the predawn’s glow,
until, looking up,
I blinked to see
– hovering –
a pink
cloud.
The dream, being a dream, unfolded,
leaving a twisted detritus
of disconnected visions
across the predawn’s glow,
until, looking up,
I blinked to see
– hovering –
a pink
cloud.